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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27084904">The Art of Friendship</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_J_Morgan/pseuds/E_J_Morgan'>E_J_Morgan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Enterprise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 02:27:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27084904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_J_Morgan/pseuds/E_J_Morgan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After all the horrible things that have happend to the crew of Enterprise, Trip is musing about the meaning of friendship and whether or not he still has a best friend on board.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Friendship - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Art of Friendship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Friendship… What a simple and yet powerful word.</p><p> </p><p>Friendship, according to different dictionaries, is “a friendly relationship, or the state of being friends”, “a situation in which two people are friends” or even “a relationship of mutual affection between people”.</p><p> </p><p>Trip had never given much thought to the meaning of the word; he had always just taken it for granted, used it without thinking much about the real essence, maybe even overused it somewhat. But now, faced with a situation that made him question everything he’d ever known about this beautiful and complex thing, he had done some research and looked up all the data he could find on the subject. The result wasn’t quite what he had expected.</p><p> </p><p>It turned out, there are many kinds of friendships, from the camaraderie of classmates or colleagues to an almost sibling-like connection between parties that goes beyond everything that could be explained with logic. The real friendship is a strong interpersonal bond that is based on kindness, affection, loyalty, empathy, love, forgiveness and also, maybe most importantly: trust. Trust that the other won’t stab you in the back while you’re not looking, so that you are allowed to really relax around them. Trust that when you’re going through a difficult time in your life there’s someone to turn to, who will listen to you and support you without judging. Trust that someone will tell you honestly if you’re making a fool of yourself or you’re behaving badly. But, right after that, they will stand by you even if you’re in trouble and everyone else might turn away from you.</p><p> </p><p>Trip, thinking hard about it, didn’t have many people who fitted the description of REAL friend. Sure, he was in good terms with mostly everyone he’d ever met: people tended to like his easy-going nature and the good balance he presented of humor and seriousness, always according to situation. He’d never had trouble fitting in with new people, be it at school or the Starfleet engineering team. He’d never been lonely or bullied. Even his superiors respected him and – except perhaps for the Vulcans – he couldn’t recall having serious problems with anyone. Certainly nothing that couldn’t be solved within the day. But that wasn’t what fitted the definition of friendship. Apparently, friendship needed more than that.</p><p> </p><p>Before Enterprise, there were only two people he’d consider friend in that sense and one of them was here with him on this voyage. Jonathan Archer was his REAL friend. Wasn’t he? They had survived training together under excruciating circumstances, they had saved each other’s lives again and again, and gone hiking in the mountains or scuba diving in Florida. They’d defied the law and all of their superiors, human or otherwise, and nearly ended up court-martialed just to save the late Henry Archer’s dream and lifework from being dismissed altogether. They had come out here, away from home, away from family and Natalie and everything they’d ever known. They drank beer and watched water polo in their free time, they talked about movies, books, work, even – surely very unfitting for the captain and chief engineer – the ship’s most recent scuttlebutts. They played together with Porthos and the tiny dog sometimes chose to spend the night at Trip’s for a change. Why wouldn’t he? He’d know Trip since he was just a puppy as well as he knew his master. They called home together because the Tucker parents loved Jonathan as if he were part of the family and because Jonathan sadly didn’t have any other living family of his own to call. Then they called their other real friend, A.G. Robinson together because the three of them were inseparable and even several thousand lightyears couldn’t break that bond.</p><p> </p><p>Recently, it wasn’t the distance that was causing the problem though. Jonathan Archer was actually closer than usual: they were sitting in the shuttlepod, just the two of them, on their way back to Enterprise after a long and exhausting visit on the planet called Norax that had, despite its name, no mythological connection but many flying and crawling insects instead and housed a species called Noraxians; humanoids with pale greenish skins, completely round ears, three eyes and certainly much better tolerance for bugs than humans did.</p><p> </p><p>Just as Trip shuddered at the memory of those twelve legged bright red and unusually sneaky monsters, the captain gave a surprised yelp and jumped up from his seat.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t believe it!” – He shouted indignantly. – “One of that <em>moosticle</em>-things came with us!” – And indeed, the chief engineer heard more than saw the creature fly around his head, probably preparing to land in his hair just like its numerous companions had done before.</p><p> </p><p>Trip sighed tiredly.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>MoostAcles</em>.” – He corrected the captain’s pronunciation while trying to prevent the beast from getting stuck in his somewhat longer than normal locks. He should have had it cut before leaving Enterprise to go down to the planet, he knew that now. Also, he should have eaten. And slept. Preferably in reverse order. Not that he’d done much of any of that lately.</p><p> </p><p>“Who cares!?” – Bellowed the older man. – “Just keep it away from me!”</p><p> </p><p>Trip just nodded in silence and proceeded to catch their uninvited passenger. He was sure Phlox would actually be happy to have a chance to study it if he could just keep it alive until they were back on board. As he quickly constructed a makeshift case out of a used ration box complete with breathing holes and trapped the wayward insect inside, he chanced a sideways glance at the captain who was sitting in the pilot’s chair, oblivious to the happenings, probably already having forgotten about their stowaway or just simply not caring enough to mention it anymore. Archer was irritated. Not a great surprise there – he’d been that a lot lately. Trip had a hard time trying to pinpoint the exact date when their mission had stopped being the most incredible thing they’d ever experienced and become just a very difficult job they had to endure and survive but he was sure it had been a while since they had actually enjoyed what they were doing.</p><p> </p><p>Gone were the days of wide eyed wonder and the anticipation of encounters with new species and an endless fear of unexpected attacks had taken its place instead, along with the thirst for revenge that grew day by day, slowly but surely consuming them all.</p><p> </p><p>Gone were their private jokes, the water polo and the phone calls. There wasn’t anyone left to call anyway: A.G. was dead, as was his sister. His parents were in despair and most of the time in no mood for small talk. Now, when he called, the only thing they ever asked him was: “have you found those bastards yet?” And every time he had to disappoint them, he could feel a portion of his soul darkening, hardening. Jonathan was never with him during these calls anymore; he hadn’t offered and Trip hadn’t asked. He wasn’t sure which one of them had stopped first but it didn’t really matter either way.</p><p> </p><p>Not much mattered these days. Not after the incident with the cogenitor and certainly not after the horrifying attack by the Xindi. And especially not after, for a while, a clone he still didn’t know much about had taken his place and caused everyone to feel uncomfortable around him now. Not that he could blame them; he himself felt uncomfortable just with the little information he had about the happenings while he’d been in a coma. He wished they hadn’t tried to save him so hard… He wasn’t worth another person’s life. He wasn’t sure he was worth anything, to tell the truth.</p><p> </p><p>Even after Archer had told Trip about the death of Charles, things had irreversibly changed and certainly not for the better. For a while there, it had seemed like the captain couldn’t bear to be in the same room with his once best friend for more than a few minutes without practically fleeing with the stupidest of excuses or sometimes even without giving any explanation at all. Trip liked these latter occasions more; at least he didn’t have to put up with obvious lies about improbable urgent messages to take or non-existing doctor’s appointments. From then on, Trip had very rarely been invited to the captain’s mess for dinner and while he wasn’t outright forbidden to go there on his own accord, it was clear he wasn’t very welcome anymore. Even so, it would have been awkward to start dining with the crew outside and having to explain the sudden change in the arrangement, so he had taken to try and find the less crowded times for quick visits to the mess hall and then eat whatever he managed to grab in the twenty seconds he’d spend there in his quarters or in Engineering. Of course, he’d soon discovered it was easier to skip meals altogether than go through the trouble of sneaking in and out.</p><p>They hadn’t even talked much about A.G.’s death, even though Trip would have liked to give and receive support in their shared grief. He was glad that at least the captain had talked to T’Pol; he certainly didn’t wish for the other man to have to suffer alone – he knew very well how horrible it was after all.</p><p> </p><p>After the attack by the Xindi, things had changed again. No longer bothering to explain anything anymore, the captain had turned into a bitter, revenge-seeking and sometimes outright cruel person. For him, the ends justified the means now; a philosophy he had deeply condemned before. He hadn’t even said anything to Trip about his sister’s death and what was worse: he had never called the Tucker parents either. There was only revenge and only those people mattered who were necessary for that. That’s why the captain had chosen to create Sim and sacrifice him to heal Trip. That was the only reason, nothing else and Trip hated every aspect of that entire situation. He was expandable – just not before they found the Xindi. It would be completely all right for him to die fighting them but he was not allowed to be ‘wasted’ before that. Actually, he was quite sure Jonathan blamed him for daring to get injured and so ‘forcing’ him to take such a drastic action. It was disgusting, really.</p><p> </p><p>The chief engineer sighed sadly and sat the box that now held the confused insect carefully on the floor. He hoped the doctor would keep the poor thing alive; it wasn’t its fault that its behavior was annoying to humans. It was just a victim of circumstances. What if it was trying to make friends with them by following them into the shuttlepod!?</p><p> </p><p>“That was an interesting planet, wasn’t it?” – He tried when he returned to his  own seat and took the helm again. – “That coming-of-age ritual was certainly something to see.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hhmm.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s reassuring to encounter a friendly species out here who are interested in getting to know us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Indeed.”</p><p> </p><p>“I also believe the negotiations were quite successful. Now we have a new friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“They didn’t know anything about the Xindi though.” – The captain reminded.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yes. But they still believed us and assured they would tell us if they hear about them. With the amount of allies they have, that’s something.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was a complete waste of time. Time we should have spent searching instead.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh…” – Not knowing what to say to that, Trip opted for keeping his mouth shut. A new habit he’d picked up recently; before that, he could talk to anyone about anything and never had trouble finding the words.</p><p> </p><p>They continued their journey in silence, each engrossed in their own thoughts. Trip tried not to remember the happier times but they kept popping into his mind uninvited anyway: earlier occasions when they would celebrate the opportunity to visit a planet and to learn about new cultures. Oh, how they hadn’t stopped talking about their experiences on the way back then! He remembered how excited they both always had been at any first contact and how they had taken every chance to visit new places together. In hindsight, even nearly dying in the desert had been an adventure he would give anything for right now! At least, they’d been best friends back then…</p><p> </p><p>Best friends… Yes, Trip was now certain that Jonathan Archer had been his best friend. But he also knew he wasn’t anymore. He wasn’t sure Archer was anyone’s friend right now but if he was, then T’Pol came to mind first. The two senior officers had found a common ground a while ago and since then, they were mostly seen together and the captain now always chose to seek out his first officer for advice instead of his chief engineer.</p><p> </p><p>So, where did this leave Trip? With one best friend dead and the other having abandoned him, he just didn’t know if he even had anyone right now. Thinking about the crew he started to replay recent events to analyze them.</p><p> </p><p>First, there was Travis. At the beginning of their tour, the both of them had been quite close for a while. Trip was pretty sure the young boomer had shown his ‘sweet spot’ to him and him alone then, they had worked together a lot and they had even stayed on the Earth-like planet just to discover it and enjoy their time off the ship. But later, probably given the age difference, Travis had gravitated toward Hoshi more and more and Trip, being like he was, bounced from crew member to crew member to talk to and get to know everyone.</p><p> </p><p>Hoshi… She was brilliant and Trip admired her language skills. She was nice, friendly, compassionate – with everyone. And she had never shown any real or unique interest in Trip as an individual. Not that she had anything against him, mind you, actually, the chief engineer was sure she liked him just fine, but then again, that was true for everyone. There just wasn’t that certain something that converted colleagues into real friends.</p><p> </p><p>Doctor Phlox cared for the entire crew. Of course he did, they were his responsibility after all. On occasions, he even offered a listening ear to those who he thought needed to talk but Trip wasn’t entirely sure it had anything to do with being friends or he just did it because he considered the nurturing of mental health part of his job as well. Not that it changed the good intention any of course but the chief engineer still wasn’t sure it all fitted the definition of ‘friendship’ in the way that he had read about.</p><p> </p><p>T'Pol… hers was a difficult case. In the beginning, Trip was sure they would resent each other… Really, a Vulcan and him – not a good match on the best of days. But, as time went on, they had developed a certain understanding for each other which even resulted in his bitterness about being sidelined by her as first officer in disappearing completely. He had accepted the fact that she outranked him and didn’t mind her presence anymore. She had done a lot for Enterprise and her crew and she had shown them that she deserved her position. She had even been helping him with neuro-pressure sessions lately even though it really wasn’t an obligation; she could just have said no. But were they friends? They never really spent much time together out of work or neuro-pressure. They didn’t even dine together anymore now and when he had tried to invite her for movie night, she had made it quite clear she wasn’t interested in things like that. She and the captain had been talking a lot and Jonathan didn’t hide the fact that – whenever he could – he choose her instead of Trip to accompany him. Maybe even now he wished the Noraxians hadn’t requested an engineer but a science officer… Anyway, Trip thought that if T’Pol even considered a human a friend, it would be the captain, not him.</p><p> </p><p>At that moment they arrived and Trip – seeing that the captain was too preoccupied and didn’t seem to notice much of anything – began the docking procedure alone. Soon, they were climbing out of the shuttlepod and met T’Pol and Malcom in the docking bay, waiting for them expectantly.</p><p> </p><p>“Sir? How did it go?” – Asked the chief of security politely, taking the captain’s bag from him.</p><p> </p><p>“No result. They don’t know the Xindi.”</p><p> </p><p>Trip saw Malcolm and T’Pol exchange a glance as if they were communicating silently before both of them turned to him questioningly. He just shrugged. What was there to say? That they had been welcomed somewhere finally, treated with respect and shown interesting things? That they should be happy about it because, essentially, that had been the purpose of their mission in the first place? Now they had to be disappointed because a meeting hadn’t taken them closer to the war they needed to fight. What a mess!</p><p> </p><p>The captain left to go to the bridge and T’Pol followed him without a word. That left Trip and Malcolm, standing abandoned in the launch bay, not sure what to do now.</p><p> </p><p>“Ahm… Commander… Are you all right?”</p><p> </p><p>He must have looked as horrible as he was feeling. Just great.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s in the box?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just… something I picked up on the planet.”</p><p> </p><p>The security chief studied Trip with a critical expression on his face as if trying to judge his state of mind.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you quite sure you’re all right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I---” – No, he wasn’t sure, damn it! He hated his life and hated their mission. He hated the Xindi and hated that A.G. and his sister were dead! He hated having lost the captain’s friendship and hated that he didn’t have anyone to talk to. Nobody to fit the definition of ‘friend’, nobody to---</p><p> </p><p>“If you want to talk… I’m here. You know?”</p><p> </p><p>Oh… That was… unexpected? Or maybe not so much. Thinking about it: Malcolm was and had been there for him. Ever since the time spent stuck in the suttlepod and nearly freezing to deaths together, the lieutenant seemed to feel they somehow belonged to each other. He had observed Trip and suggested programs he knew he would like, for example poker games. He even watched football with Trip, because, quite honestly, that was what he preferred to water polo and Malcolm said he wanted to learn the rules anyway.  </p><p> </p><p>When the security officer had noticed Trip skipping meals he had taken to appear in his quarters or in Engineering with sandwiches or a pecan pie at random times and had even suggested they make a ‘feast’ in the Armory every once in a while. He had made Trip talk about his sister and had asked questions about A.G. and how they had met and worked together before Enterprise.</p><p> </p><p>Malcolm had only ever mentioned the cogenitor incident once, assuring Trip that he understood what he had done and – even if it had sadly turned out in a tragical way – knew that his intentions had been pure. He had said he didn’t think Charles’ death was his fault; it was the system that had done that to the cogenitor. Teaching someone to read doesn’t equal killing and anyone who suggested otherwise must be a fool. Even if it was the captain implying that. After that, they never talked about it again.</p><p> </p><p>Trip studied the slightly older man in front of him, reciting the definition of friendship in his mind and comparing it with the things Malcolm had done for him lately. It was an astounding realization when it finally hit him: Malcolm had been a real friend throughout the entire time he had been feeling sorry for himself because of Jon! On the other hand, Trip hadn’t been a very good friend to him. Too engrossed in his own misery, never realizing how lonely Malcolm was, even though they had talked about it in the shuttlepod! Feeling disgusted with himself, Trip made a decision.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you like to grab something to eat and make that feast you’ve been suggesting?”</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p> </p><p>“We will also have to find a name for my new pet and make a home for it.” – He smiled, showing the content of the box to Malcolm. Now, he was determined to keep the insect and not give it to Phlox who would most probably feed it to his bat. – “This little one wanted to come with us.”</p><p> </p><p>“It seems to be comfortable with you.” – Malcolm observed. – “What does it eat?”</p><p> </p><p>“I guess we’ll have to find out together. If you would like to help…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, Trip! Mind if I call you Trip? I already asked you once but you were asleep…”</p><p> </p><p>Losing a friendship is a painful thing, Trip knew that now. It was much worse than Natalie breaking up with him and nearly as bad as someone dying. He certainly had mourned similarly. He didn’t know what exactly had brought Jon and him together in the first place and what had made them friends back then when they had defied the Vulcans together. Despite having read everything he could find on friendship, he still didn’t really know how it begins and why it ends sometimes. He didn’t know how things had spiraled down and out of control with the captain; the only thing he was sure of was that there wasn’t one single incident or only one of them to blame. It had happened more gradually than that and there had been many factors playing a role.</p><p>They didn’t hate each other and – luckily – hadn’t become enemies. They could still work together without problems and, on good days, maybe even talk a bit about other things. He still cared and would still die for his captain, while Jon was still giving him good assignments and letting him handle his own department without intervention. But the trust had changed when it had become apparent it was the chief engineer the captain would save and protect, not the man behind the title.</p><p>It was fine though. Things change and you have to adapt all the time. You mustn’t be wallowing so much in your sorrow that you don’t notice the new people around you; you could lose the chance for another real friendship then, just like Trip had almost done.</p><p> </p><p>From now on, Trip would make sure he didn’t neglect anyone and wouldn’t live in the past, crying for something that wasn’t there anymore. And as they slowly fed carrot greens to the appreciative hungry insect together, he made a silent promise to Malcolm to be the best friend he could be.</p><p> </p><p>Friendship was something to be worked for. It was an art and he would be the artist from now on.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>A week later</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>When you know someone as well as Trip knew Jonathan Archer, it’s a horrible sense of loss when you suddenly don’t spend much time with them anymore. It had been a week since the chief engineer had decided to stop trying to force something that just wasn’t meant to be and he had kept to that religiously. Still, it didn’t mean he never thought about how ‘the old’ captain would like this nebula they had spotted, or how, at that time of the week, they usually watched water polo and ate popcorn. That was alright though. Old memories had to be cherished and kept alive; they were treasures and there was really no reason to deny them just because the life had changed.</p><p> </p><p>When Archer and T’Pol came across him on the corridor, they greeted each other with shy smiles and a muttered ‘hi’ then kept on walking into opposite directions, without stopping to ask where the other was headed or what their plans were for this calm and eventless Saturday evening. However, this time it didn’t fill him with resentment, jealousy or even sadness anymore. He didn’t have time for it: he was due in two minutes at Malcolm’s to watch that old horror movie the other man had been so excited about for three days, claiming that was bound to give them the creeps. There would be chocolate because, as it turned out, the Englishman had quite a sweet tooth he’d been hiding the entire time. How the man had managed to stay that slim with all the ‘sweets’ he had stored up in his room was beyond Trip’s comprehension. Not that he minded; desserts in the mess hall weren’t bad but sometimes it was good to have something from back home.</p><p> </p><p>As soon as he arrived at the lieutenant’s quarters and moved his arm to press the button, the door swung open and his best friend stood there, looking annoyed.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re late. Come on, I’m hungry!”</p><p> </p><p>“All right, all right!” – Trip laughed. – “Keep your shirt on, Mal. I’m here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, come on then! I can’t wait to see the monster. According to the reviews, it’s bloody spooky!”</p><p> </p><p>Trip chuckled at the childlike enthusiasm and sat crossed-legged on the security chief’s bed, waiting for the movie to start.</p><p> </p><p>Yep, life was good.</p>
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